


Good Morning, Love

by WithACommaAfterDearest



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 00:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8347945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithACommaAfterDearest/pseuds/WithACommaAfterDearest
Summary: Her lids flutter open slowly, then sink half-shut again, revealing only a crescent of her deep mahogany eyes.“Alex?”Her voice is rough from drinking and sex, scraping over his name in a way that makes his spine shiver. He doesn’t answer. A shift, a creak of the bedsprings, a tightening of her arms. Her next words are barely audible, a terror filled plea tinged with loneliness.“Please don’t leave me.”





	

I have no idea what this is but I cranked it out so enjoy! Love you all!

Despite the pool of whiskey long soaked into the mattress, her perfume wafts above the tangled, sweaty bedsheets, masking the stench of alcohol. The scent she’s wearing doesn’t suit her at all- it’s something fruity and pleasant, with a hint of laughter. She seems like she’d prefer velvet and musk and the smooth elegance of nighttime. The woman- girl, really- next to him is sprawled in a position of careless grace, slender limbs tangling in his own, face nestled into his bare chest. She stirs softly, hands seeking purchase, finally curling around his neck as she sighs lightly. Her lips are free of the seductive pout she had worn last night when she coaxed him to a bed, smudged with the remnants of her crimson lipstick. Perfectly glossy curls gone awry tangle in his fist as he tries to sweep the chocolate locks from her lips. He allows his eyes to travel from her face down her long, elegant neck, the swell of her breast, the curve of her hip.

She’s beautiful.

Her lids flutter open slowly, then sink half-shut again, revealing only a crescent of her deep mahogany eyes.

“Alex?” 

Her voice is rough from drinking and sex, scraping over his name in a way that makes his spine shiver. He doesn’t answer. A shift, a creak of the bedsprings, a tightening of her arms. Her next words are barely audible, a terror filled plea tinged with loneliness.

“Please don’t leave me.” It seems almost against her will when she begins to shudder, burying her forehead into his shoulder and heaving out great sobs, pressing her hand against her mouth to muffle the wrenching tears. She swipes furiously at her eyes, rubbing at them with the pads of her fingers.

“Hey. Hey,” Alex cautiously lets one arm settle around her waist, rubbing soothing circles on her back with the other. She scrambles back.

“You can’t. You can’t, please, please I promise I’ll never do anything wrong, I’ll be the perfect wif-” she chokes over the last word as soon as it falls from her lips, half finished, and full-fledged terror slowly fills her eyes. There is a moment of throbbing silence, and she instantly tries to backtrack. “I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean to say that, really, I swear. You already have a wife and I know that and-” She’s hysterical now, pleading in broken sentences, words that sounds like they have the barest relation to English and Alex is half shocked by how quickly the quiet, calm scene deteriorated into this.

“Calm down. Maria, no, Maria. Breathe. Breathe,” he waits as she pulls in a breath, but it’s forced back out of her by a whimper and his heart breaks. “It’s all right, okay?”

“You’re going to leave me,” she whispers. “You’re going to leave. Or, worse,” she began to shake, tremble, and she bites her lip so hard a drop of blood wells up. “you’re going to stay.” 

Her eyes seem to gloss over, like oil poured in water, and he gets the feeling she’s not seeing him. His eyes flicker across the bruises littering her skin, the half-healed cuts, and the gold band wrapped around her left hand ring finger, and he knows exactly while she’s horrified by her little slip.

“No,” he murmurs. “No, I won’t. Maria, I’m not going to leave you, I’m not going to leave you, love.” 

Love?

Only Eliza had ever been “love”. 

Only Eliza had ever made him happy.

But here he is, in the dirtiest hellhole of an apartment he had ever seen, half-clothed, failing at comforting a sobbing girl, and there is a tiny, barely-there flame of happiness, of pure, uninhibited joy. 

So he says it again.

“Darling. Love.” Alexander reaches out his arms and she hiccups her way over and curls into a ball next to him.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It’s two hours before he leaves- two hours of comforting and trying to ignore the bruises on her skin. Two hours of the feeling he used to have with Eliza, when she needed protecting, when she wasn’t stronger than he was. And two hours later he’s home. Eliza’s cream-colored nightgown is neatly folded on the bed. He touches it. It is made of silk- not cheap cotton with an itchy tag like Maria’s- and her cucumber-scented lotion is propped on her nightstand. Little luxuries are scattered about the room- Eliza’s diary with real leaves and flower petals pressed into the paper. Three bars of soap stacked in the shower. A set of lipglosses Eliza had tried, rejected, and tucked into a drawer, never to be seen again.

Alexander wanders into the breakfast room, where Eliza’s hair is braided down her perfectly straight back. She sips her tea brazenly, washed clean of all makeup, sweet and clean and pulled together.

“Good morning, love,” Alexander tries to say but he can’t choke the words out. He pecks her cheek instead.

“Good morning, Eliza.”

They sit in silence.


End file.
